


The Key

by Cade Welentine (cadewelentine)



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, M/M, keys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadewelentine/pseuds/Cade%20Welentine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything was just as Carlos remembered it from his first day. The desert sun beat down on cracked, dry earth and heated darkly paved roadways until the air above them wriggled in his vision. There was the slightest bit of wind, rustling water-deprived leaves on trees and blowing up rust red dust that clung to his lab coat.<br/>And Cecil’s voice was on the radio, reporting the news.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Key

Everything was just as Carlos remembered it from his first day. The desert sun beat down on cracked, dry earth and heated darkly paved roadways until the air above them wriggled in his vision. There was the slightest bit of wind, rustling water-deprived leaves on trees and blowing up rust red dust that clung to his lab coat.

And Cecil’s voice was on the radio, reporting the news.

Everything was just as Carlos remembered it.

He stood at the edge of the street, beside the bus stop sign, until one of the long vehicles lumbered toward him. He got on, dumping all of the spare change in his pockets into the fare box. The bus driver didn’t growl at him, so he figured he put in an acceptable amount, if not more. He gave the bus driver a weak smile before taking a seat at the back of the bus, beside a man in a tan jacket who was carrying a deerskin suitcase.

Carlos was tempted to ask if the man was hot, considering he was wearing a long tan overcoat, but he thought better of it. He was wearing a lab coat after all. They were in the same boat.

“Carlos?” The man in the tan jacket asked.

“Yes, scientifically speaking, that is who I am.” Carlos nodded, furrowing his brow. He couldn’t remember having seen the man’s face before in his life, yet he seemed strangely familiar.

“Here.” The man said, pressing a small silver key into Carlos’ palm. He stood, pressing the button to signify that he wanted to get off at the next stop.

“What does this unlock?” Carlos wondered, looking up at him.

“You’ll know when you need it.” The man assured him as the bus lurched to a stop. He winked at Carlos, then took off, leaving Carlos with a key and limited memory of how it got in his hand.

...

Carlos got off the bus in front of Big Rico’s Pizza. The familiar pizza joint was as busy as ever despite the wheat ban. He knew there were wheat-free alternatives to pizza crust, but none of them particularly wowed him. Cecil insisted that the rice-flour kind was delicious, Carlos just said he would take his boyfriend’s word for it.

What was more important to Carlos was the building _next_ to Big Rico’s: his lab, with all its humming electrical equipment and beakers.

He slipped inside, using the key he always kept underneath the periodic table welcome mat he had in front of the door.

Everything was exactly as he had left it. The results from his study on the John Peters imposter’s oranges were still sitting by the computer. He still had several beakers and test tubes full of mysterious substances in various shades of purple he had found around the town. All of those samples were sure to be contaminated by now; Carlos made a mental note to collect more the next time he got the chance.

It took all his strength to fight the urge to dive right into his work. He had more important things to do than Science at the moment, if you can believe it.

He shed his lab coat, tossing it in the dirty laundry hamper in the corner of the lab. Next, he removed his shoes and socks, and shirts and pants, throwing them in after the coat. He hesitated, then pulled off his boxers as well. Might as well go with a fully fresh outfit.

He opened the little closet next to his desk, pulling out the clean set of clothes he always kept in there. New boxers, clean jeans, and one of those t-shirts that Steve Carlsberg printed up of him and Cecil in the parking lot of the Arby’s. Carlos had always thought they were cute, but they made Cecil angry. Then again, everything Steve Carlsberg did made Cecil angry.

Then, to complete the outfit, he put on his spare lab coat.

Carlos looked at himself in the mirror. He looked pretty good, if he did say so himself. Sure, his hair was in need of a trim, and he had a budding beard that would need to be shaved off, but he was still himself. Still what Cecil would describe as perfect, no matter how far from perfect he actually was.

Speaking of Cecil-

Carlos flicked on his radio. Cecil’s show was over, and all that was playing was the sound of a window opening, a hand reaching in.

A window opening.

A hand reaching in.

“What time is it anyway?” Carlos wondered aloud, looking at the screen of his cell phone. “It can’t already be ten o’clock.” But time worked differently in Night Vale. Carlos knew that.

He slipped his phone back in his pocket, and his hand brushed against the key that he couldn’t remember getting, and he headed out the door.

...

Carlos felt like a stranger as he stood outside the flat, low building that held his and Cecil’s apartment. He had insisted on the low set building after seeing the seismic readings for the little town. They may not normally feel the earthquakes that the sensors picked up, but Carlos didn’t want to risk it by living six stories in the air.

Their apartment was on the second floor, and Carlos decided to take the stairs. He needed to work out how to make his entrance.

Should he make a grand, sweeping gesture?

Or should he enter like he did on an average day, coming home from the lab?

And he hadn’t even considered the possibility that Cecil might not even be home! What if Cecil wasn’t home, what would he do then?

And then he was standing in front of their apartment door, staring at polished oak and brass numbers. His hand was on the doorknob, but the door was locked. He shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course Cecil was locking the door with the whole Lot 37 thing going on. If it were happening to him, he would most certainly be locking the door, too.

His hands dove into his pockets. There was only one key- that mysterious key whose origins he didn’t remember. He couldn’t recall where he got it nor what it unlocked. He didn’t think it was his apartment key- it didn’t have the purple rubber cover Cecil had given him as a housewarming gift- but he had no other options, so he might as well give it a shot. He could call it an experiment.

He pushed the key into the lock, surprised when it fit. He was even more surprised when it turned in the lock. He was surprised, but he wasn’t going to question it. Not now.

Carlos found the den empty. The kitchen, too. The bathroom door was wide open, and all the lights off, so Cecil couldn’t have been in there.

With baited breath, he nudged the door to their shared bedroom open. The lights were off, but he could hear the telltale whirring of the window fan from the opposite side of the room.

And there was Cecil.

He was sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep, still in his work clothes. His purple button down was untucked, its corresponding tie was loose around his neck. One pant leg was hiked up to his knee, and the other was pulled down over his foot- like he’d started taking his pants off and fallen asleep part way through. His glasses were askew.

In his hand, he clutched his cell phone tightly. Carlos carefully wiggled it free from Cecil’s grasp. The screen displayed most of Carlos’ number; Cecil had been trying to call him. Carlos couldn’t help but smile to himself.

He placed Cecil’s phone on the bedside table. Then he careful removed his boyfriend’s glasses, folding them neatly and setting them down next to the phone. He pressed a soft kiss to Cecil’s forehead, up close to his hairline.

Then, so as not to disturb him, Carlos tiptoed toward the door.

He could sleep on the couch tonight.

“Carlos-” Cecil groaned, rustling in the sheets. Carlos stopped in the doorframe and looked at him. Cecil was out- talking in his sleep, he supposed.

“Carlos...?” Cecil murmured, rolling over. “Come home.”

“I already am home, Cecil.” Carlos smiled, his voice a whisper. “I already am.”

 


End file.
